we are nothing but specks of dirt
blowing in the wind, father and
farther apart.

and if somehow by the grace of
the current that carries this air
we are brought back together,
i'm not sure i'll recognize you.

stuck between heart break
and a deep sigh of relief,
i wish either felt easier.

i hear you through the stained glass
screaming at children, scaring the **** out of them
*******, you're ******* tough, aren't you?
telling a nine year old to jump in the garbage where she belongs

with your cigarette stained screams
and hair that would gladly twist it's tendrils
around any unsuspecting victim
quick enough to squeeze the life out of them
before they had the sense to run

and this little girl has strength enough to keep her chin up,
keep moving her little legs to grab her icee
from the corner market in this early summer heat

and you're still on your ******* porch
yelling about little ******* pinching your baby

if you want to be the guard dog of this neighborhood
let's get you a chain and leash
because there's no question in my mind
that you are a *****

what better
secret is there
than that of lust? lovers using
their lips to share sacred stories
without speaking a single word.

i'd like to rip out a chunk of each of you
tantalizingly slow, i'll dig my dirt crusted finger tips into your flesh
never breaking eye contact as one after the other
you squirm and beg for mercy

i'll take needles, thick and crusted with rust,
and piece together a patchwork of my broken hearts
watch as all of the things i miss most become one

i'll stare at my conglomerate of lovers and will
find myself swooning the way i often do over all of you,
only this time i won't fear the cavernous plunge to come

how could the most beautiful pieces of all the
men i've ever loved scorn me?
i'll just have to put up with the stench of decomposition

i'd like to sit at work all day
and drown in words

big ones that snake slowly down my esophagus
and little ones that i throw back twelve
at a time from a double shot glass

i'd like to inject them
into my blood stream

the first ***** of the needle will sting
but after that it's smooth sailing
and i'll be high on odes, haikus, and prose all day

i'd like to unhinge
the top of my skull

take measuring cups and mix 1/2 cup
repetition, 3 cups flow, 3/4 cup line breaks
in with my brains until it's a thick, smooth mixture

i'd like to gorge until
my body refuses one more bite

so full of cummings, neruda, frost, denero,
mcgovern, hughes, whitman, salzberg,
keats, eliot, wordsworth that i might explode

someone please let
me in
on when life loosens its
tightening, frightening grasp
on my reality

this is my white flag
this is my deafening thud

as skull meets asphalt in deadly heat
blood pours out and boils beside my face
scents of pavement, iron, and salt swarm my nostrils

and if i'm not pathetic, then i'm prophetic
ahead of my time,
or better yet, eons behind

don't wanna slow down, don't wanna catch up

rather be ****** up,
yeah,
i'd rather be ****** up

i long for words that would sail us
to middle earth;
a step up from hell for me,
a step down from the heavens for you

she and i discussed at length
the way that yearning pierces
painfully, just as the time before,
never any less, maybe a little more
over hand rolled cigarettes,
wine, and salsa dancing

we looked at a history of our city,
hard working men who breathed
through fire and molten metal,
and spoke for hours about how
art is the saving grace in this mess

i wished that i could find a way
to convince you to see the world
through my eyes,
but i know yours are just as bright
and maybe even more beautiful,
if not more unique

if only my mind could find
the answers
a piece of my world transfered
to yours

i'd like to show you all i have to offer
but realization of sure fire rejection
trumps desire for detection

now don't think that i sit
and wish for you in droves
a tiny shadow woman
who hasn't got any hope
because that isn't it, far from the truth
i'm just hopeless in wanting for things
that could've, should've, would've been